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catholic
September 2009 
Sacrilege
Posted on May 29th, 2007
by 
Serendipity
Serendipity
We purchased our mountain cabin from a lovely, God-fearing elderly couple. They were good Catholics and had decorated with the requisite number of crucifixes and had a Madonna in the yard. The Madonna statue, in her grotto, was strategically placed atop a tree stump such that she could look in the window of the master bedroom and keep watch over its occupants.
Being good Pagans, my husband and I have no problems with any culture's Goddesses, but I'd rather the virgins didn't stare at me while I have sex. Luckily, the couple was very fond of their Madonna and asked if they could take it with them. We were happy to let them. The grotto remained, cemented to the top of the stump.
As part of the deal, the couple left most of the furniture and an assortment of tacky garden decorations. We spent most of the week we moved in sorting through what was left behind, and, by adding some of our own things and whatever our relatives were willing to give us, attempted to make the decor more our style. One of the things we found around the cabin was a plastic pig, standing erect and wearing trousers and a red coat. I suspect he was once part of a set of three, but now he is left to fend off the big, bad wolf on his own. My husband, ever the trickster, stuck the pig in the grotto, a setting which made the pig rather disturbing. We laughed about offending the Catholics, the Muslims, and possibly the Jews all at once. Then we got busy with other projects and there the pig remained, staring in the bedroom window, all through the fall and winter.
Inside projects done for awhile, the last trip to the cabin was devoted to working on the gardens. I cleaned out an overgrown raised bed and planted an herb garden. I transplanted hostas which where withering in the sun to a shady spot under the eaves. And I climbed up on the stump and pushed on the grotto until it hit the ground with a thud. The ugly plastic pig went into the pile of things that were going to the dump. As soon as my husband cuts the stump down, I am going to plant a butterfly garden around it.
The next morning, I sent my husband and daughter to the dump while I cared for my son, who was not feeling well. Distracted by his needs, I didn't notice that the pig had found his way out of the dump pile and back onto the stump. He's a little less disturbing without the grotto, but not much less. We haven't accumulated enough to make another trip to the dump necessary, so there he sits, staring in the bedroom window. I wonder if there is a culture that has a pig god. If there is a pig god, I hope he thinks sex is a good thing.
Being good Pagans, my husband and I have no problems with any culture's Goddesses, but I'd rather the virgins didn't stare at me while I have sex. Luckily, the couple was very fond of their Madonna and asked if they could take it with them. We were happy to let them. The grotto remained, cemented to the top of the stump.
As part of the deal, the couple left most of the furniture and an assortment of tacky garden decorations. We spent most of the week we moved in sorting through what was left behind, and, by adding some of our own things and whatever our relatives were willing to give us, attempted to make the decor more our style. One of the things we found around the cabin was a plastic pig, standing erect and wearing trousers and a red coat. I suspect he was once part of a set of three, but now he is left to fend off the big, bad wolf on his own. My husband, ever the trickster, stuck the pig in the grotto, a setting which made the pig rather disturbing. We laughed about offending the Catholics, the Muslims, and possibly the Jews all at once. Then we got busy with other projects and there the pig remained, staring in the bedroom window, all through the fall and winter.
Inside projects done for awhile, the last trip to the cabin was devoted to working on the gardens. I cleaned out an overgrown raised bed and planted an herb garden. I transplanted hostas which where withering in the sun to a shady spot under the eaves. And I climbed up on the stump and pushed on the grotto until it hit the ground with a thud. The ugly plastic pig went into the pile of things that were going to the dump. As soon as my husband cuts the stump down, I am going to plant a butterfly garden around it.
The next morning, I sent my husband and daughter to the dump while I cared for my son, who was not feeling well. Distracted by his needs, I didn't notice that the pig had found his way out of the dump pile and back onto the stump. He's a little less disturbing without the grotto, but not much less. We haven't accumulated enough to make another trip to the dump necessary, so there he sits, staring in the bedroom window. I wonder if there is a culture that has a pig god. If there is a pig god, I hope he thinks sex is a good thing.
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